


Our Dreams, Our Pride

by ahhhnorealnamesallowed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (or very little plot), Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Harry Potter, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hermione is only there briefly, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Holidays, Ireland, M/M, Magic University - Freeform, POV Alternating, Post-Secondary, Slice of Life, Swearing, a very british coach holiday, discussion of sex and sexual acts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhhnorealnamesallowed/pseuds/ahhhnorealnamesallowed
Summary: For six years, Harry has promised Draco a 'big thing' for their anniversary.  This year is the year Harry is going to make it happen, even if he does so in a very Harry Potter way.Including last-minute vacation planning, some very sassy old people, a coach bus, and less anniversary sex than expected.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 26
Kudos: 86
Collections: Very Drarry Summer Vibes 2020





	1. Our Dreams, Our Pride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iRavenish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iRavenish/gifts).



> iRavenish, I hope you enjoy the story--I loved the prompt and I ran with it.
> 
> Many thanks to my stellar last-minute beta extraordinaire; you are a champ, a true hero, and made me smile.
> 
> Also a big, loud, THANK YOU to Triggerlil for being a huge help throughout the process--and to the rest of the Mods for making this entire Fest possible!

This was all Potter’s fault.

Draco would admit to himself, that he holds some small, _miniscule_ , portion of the blame, if only because he was the one who trusted Potter to _not_ be the complete pillock Draco knows him to be. But Draco would never, ever, say anything of the sort out loud.

This was entirely Potter’s fault. Merlin save him from speccy gits.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM  
  


It all started during Eighth Year, during their Muggle Studies class, which had been made mandatory for all returning students. Draco was actually somewhat interested in the material—he knew that the Pureblood ideologies he was raised with were, to put it gently, _fucking wrong_ , not to mention antiquated and utterly unfounded, and he no longer had to pretend that he felt the way his father and his mad aunt wanted him to.

In their first class of the term, the Muggle Studies professor had all of the Eighth-Year students partner with a student from another house, and, somehow, Draco had ended up with the great git himself. Potter, for his part, had not seemed overly hostile towards Draco and had even been part (or all) of the reason that Draco was able to return to Hogwarts at all. Only three days into their classes, plus the platform, train ride, and carriage journey, they had yet to speak to each other, although they had exchanged cordial nods when they passed in the halls or locked eyes in the Great Hall.

Draco shuffled his bag off the stool next to him at his table near the back of the room as Potter gathered his belongings and made his way to his new seat.

“Potter,” Draco greeted quietly, no venom in his tone, just bland politeness.

“Malfoy,” Potter returned, matching his inflection. They nodded at each other as Potter took the empty seat.

Before Draco could become uncomfortable with the silence or lost in green eyes, the professor (whose name he should have made a point to learn already) called back the attention of the class.

“This year, since the Eighth Year students have the ability and the right to leave Hogwarts grounds at their own discretion, our main assignment of this course will be that you and your partner explore Muggle culture and history by completing practical research. Each pair is required to complete two trips per term to different Muggle areas, and submit papers (not two feet of parchment, as Draco was used to, but, five to ten Muggle A4 sheets) detailing the experience. Each partner is required to select one destination per term and write up a proposal for myself, and their partner, for _why_ the location they have selected is important, either to Muggle culture or to Muggle history. Once the proposal has been approved, you may visit the locale at your leisure, but must spend at least three hours observing your destination and how Muggles are interacting with it.

“You will have some class time to work with your partner, but it is expected that the bulk of the work on these assignments will be completed outside of class hours. And,” and here the professor finally paused, a bright smile crossing their face, “don’t worry too much if you don’t know any popular Muggle destinations. You may be inspired by some of what we cover here in class, and you can always talk to your peers or myself, or conduct your own further research in the library. Please come speak to me if you have any questions or concerns at any point regarding this assignment or any other material we cover in this course. I know that this is a mandatory course, but it’s my hope that you can all complete this year having learned something new.”

The professor carried on, introducing the rest of the syllabus and outlining some key outcomes of the course—“This is just like what you’d get in a Muggle University,” Draco heard Granger murmur when everyone received a packet of papers, rather than a ream of parchment, detailing everything the professor had discussed, including the due dates of all assignments and their weighing. She was one of the few who looked prepared to cry tears of joy. Draco thought he understood how she felt. It would be a lot easier to build a study schedule when he already knew when all of the assignments for one class needed to be done. Hell, he might even be able to work ahead.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Potter muttered, “I can’t believe I didn’t realise how much of a swot you are.”

Draco ignored him.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Draco felt that Potter, being Muggle-raised, if not Muggle-born, should choose the first location for their Muggle Studies assignment.

Potter quickly put paid to the idea when he admitted that, while he knew _of_ a lot of places Muggles frequented, he had been to very few, and could only remember a childhood trip to the zoo because of a python that may or may not have become Nagini and a disaster with some accidental magic.

So, Potter being Potter, and therefore inherently predictable, went to Granger for guidance dragging Draco along with him.

“I don’t want to choose somewhere that you and your BBC RP find inherently working class,” Potter had explained with a smirk as he tugged Draco across the Eighth Year common room to where Granger was seated by the hearth.

Draco could tell that he had been insulted somehow, even if he didn’t understand it, but his good breeding and the teasing light in Potter’s eyes stopped him from making more than a token protest.

Granger was, as Draco had long suspected, the brains of the operation, and provided the names and locations of several suitable museums to consider, as well as the option of the British Library in London, which apparently played host to both locals and tourists and would provide ample Muggle-watching opportunities.

Draco forced Potter to write his proposal right there on the floor beside Granger while Draco did the same. The sooner they could complete their two visits of the term, the sooner Draco could write his papers on them and worry about other classes.

“Swot,” Potter muttered, and Draco probably imagined that the exasperation was tinged with fondness.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

It turned out that Draco really enjoyed his two trips to the Muggle world with Potter.

The Muggles, their habits, their society, their history, their culture, and their _fashion_ were all things that fascinated Draco Malfoy. He had spent the two mandatory trips to the Muggle world in his Hogwarts uniform of slacks and a button-down shirt, with one of his cashmere jumpers to help protect him from the cold of mid-autumn when Potter had vetoed cloaks.

“Maybe if we were going to Camden Market you could get away with the cloak,” Potter had told him, “but with the museum crowds, you’d be better off looking like a public school pillock and being a bit cold. I’m sure you know wandless warming charms by now,” he’d added, smirking.

Draco wasn’t sure he liked any of the implications of that statement, even if he had perfected his wandless warming charms over the course of last Easter, after Potter had taken his wand. There must have been a look on his face because Potter quickly lost his smirk and he began to flail and apologise.

“No, Malfoy, _Jesus_ , I don’t know what you think I meant, but I was just joking about you being a frosty bitch, I swear. And I'm sorry. Just, I didn’t even think. I was just all ‘oh Malfoy’s all pointy, he’s probably cold too; cold people need to use more warming charms.’ I promise I didn’t mean anything by it.”

And Draco could do nothing in the face of that sincere apology but laugh and make Potter promise to take him shopping for a Muggle cloak or whatever if he ended up getting cold. “I can’t believe I just received an apology where calling me a frosty bitch and pointy are somehow part of the apology and not what needs to be apologised _for_ ,” Draco mused as they departed the castle.

Potter did not bother to respond, but he did make a point of taking Draco to an ‘M&S’ (a shop of some sort that sold both produce and clothing, with a big, green _Marks & Spencer_ over the entrance—and Potter didn’t even know the men who ran the shop and laughed when Draco asked if he could meet the proprietors) to get a ‘jacket’ later that afternoon.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

After the small M&S side-trip, and the spending spree that ensued, Draco began to take regular outings to the Muggle world with Potter, even though they weren’t mandatory again until after the Christmas hols.

At some point during these trips, Potter became Harry. And Harry became Draco’s best friend.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Draco was worried that after they graduated from Hogwarts, he would never see Harry again, except for maybe at Teddy’s birthday parties.

He really shouldn’t have worried about it.

It turned out Harry followed him to Uni.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

“Potter! What the ever-loving _fuck_ are you doing here?”

“Malfoy? Is this your room?” Harry looked around the twin dorm, noticing the pristinely made bed, the hints of Slytherin greens and silvers in the motif of the duvet, the bookcase already overloaded with course books, the meticulously highlighted daily planner (and wasn’t it a treat to it gift to Draco the previous Christmas, only to have to take him to every Muggle stationary from Edinburgh to Cardiff to ensure that he was able to find one to call ‘his local,’ as if a _local_ was what you called your preferred stationery store in the first place). “Never mind, that was a dumb question—”

“—I’m glad you have enough of a brain to recognise that—”

“—Because you are the only swot I know who prefers green highlighters.”

Draco made an affronted sound. Harry prepared himself for the now-memorised rant about how green highlighters are under-appreciated and neon yellow is not, under any circumstances, to be used to signify anything important in life—unless the only other option is neon orange, because neon orange can go fuck itself, _thank you very much_ —

But Draco just shook his head, smile exasperated, and huffed a little laugh. Harry felt immensely pleased with himself, even though he tried to tell himself he didn’t.

“As nice as it is to be visited in my dorm by the _saviour of the wizarding world_ ,” Draco began, and it was Harry’s turn to make an affronted sound that was promptly ignored, “my question still stands. What the actual fuck are you doing here, Harry? And don’t say visiting me.”

“Well, Draco, according to this memo provided to me, this is my dorm room for the year. So, I guess I need to ask: what are you doing here, in my room?” Harry leaned against the doorframe, ankles crossed, as he waited for Draco to react.

Draco’s reaction did not disappoint. “Your… room?” He sounded absolutely flabbergasted, which was always amusing for Harry. “But… but… the Aurors?” Harry just smiled and shook his head.

“So, you’ll be rooming here… with me…” Draco trailed off, but then the situation seemed to sink in and he threw Harry a blinding smile. Harry told his heart to knock off that pounding thing it was doing. “I told you that you shouldn’t join the Aurors!” Draco crowed in delight, “I’m glad you’ve decided to try something different.” And he gave Harry a quick hug.

Harry had never felt better about his choice to switch fields to Mediwizardry.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

As seemed to always be the case now, their lives fit together seamlessly.

Despite the fact that Draco was very much a swot, he never tried to push Harry into his schedule—unless they were working on an assignment as a pair, which they tried to do in any class they shared whenever the instructor even mentioned partnering students up. When they were working together, Harry respected Draco’s schedule for the project and worked to meet his deadlines.

Harry, on the other hand, tried to get Draco to set aside his schedule from time to time.

“Draco,” he wheedled, “your brain needs rest, too. You're a social person. You need to be around people.” He never managed to get Draco to agree to any big to-dos on campus, but he usually could pull him away for a day of shopping in Muggle London, or a trip to the cinema, and sometimes a quick run to a chippie. Harry always considered it a success.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Their first real trip together was an accidental train journey from York to London.

It was awful.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Draco learned a lot after the loathsome and unforgettable York-London escapade.

He learned to read Muggle rail maps, the map for the London underground, and even actual road maps.

He learned that trips, even impromptu accidental train journeys, need some preparation, even if it is just a handful of pounds to buy snacks before rushing through the platform before the train departs.

And most importantly, he learned not to trust Harry Potter with the planning and preparation of any trip.

He regrets ever having forgotten that hard-learnt lesson.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Harry isn’t sure if they were dating before they moved into a flat together after their training was done.

They moved into a cozy flat not too far from St. Mungo’s, where Harry was due to start a year of full-time placement, but still within a comfortable apparition for Draco, who was continuing on with his specialization in Mind Healing. It’s on the third floor of a somewhat small apartment complex, has an en suite off the master bedroom, a second bedroom, a second toilet with a shower, and an open concept kitchen-living-dining space.

Harry suspects that they were likely dating before the move, because they only discussed the second bedroom in terms of “should we use it as a guest room or convert it into a study?” and they had been sharing a bed for the better part of a year and a half at that point.

But Harry wasn’t certain they were actually dating until Draco came home from class one night, saw that Harry had ordered in his favourite curry because he knows late afternoon classes are impossibly draining for Draco, and whispered, “Thanks love, you really are the best boyfriend,” before placing a peck on his temple and collapsing with his rice and curry on the sofa.

Of course, Harry had to be the biggest berk to ever exist and interrupt Draco’s comfort dinner to say, “Okay, so we _are_ dating. Excellent. Good to know. Um, not to be…whatever…but, um, how long, exactly have we been dating for? So I can be sure to do something for our anniversary.”

Luckily, Draco found him endearing, laughing at his expense as he said, “Don’t worry your pretty little scarhead about it, I’ve only started counting since you turned down that girl at the Muggle club on your birthday to come home and have ice cream with me while watching Baking Show.”

Harry could only sigh, because that was his birthday last year—they'd be celebrating their one-year anniversary in a month and Harry hadn’t even been certain they were dating.

“We aren’t going to do a big thing this year,” he decided. “You still have classes and I’ll be starting a new rotation next month. We can do a big thing in two years, once you’re done school and rotations. And in the meantime, we can pick a new date. I don’t want to celebrate us on the same day everyone is celebrating me.” But mostly, he wanted the day he celebrated Draco and him being together to be on a day that nothing else fell on, so it could really be just about them.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Draco takes a truly Slytherin joy in changing the day of their anniversary for the next five years.

They still hadn't had a “big thing” as Harry called it, but they had spent weekends away, gone to the cinema or the theatre, and even spent a weekend being Muggle London tourists.

Draco forgets that Harry should not be left in charge of planning trips when he declares that, finally for this year’s anniversary, they should do something “big” and Harry claims that it’s his treat, all of it.

“Draco, love, I promised you a big thing six years ago, and I swear to you, I will do it.”

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Draco ensures that both he and Harry have the right week off work, and that is where his involvement in the trip planning ends.

Harry honestly has the best of intentions. He has grand plans.

One week vacation with Draco, Muggle-style.

Maybe something tropical? But Harry and Draco don’t have Muggle passports, and with the fiddling that needs to be done to make a Pureblood show up as a real live person to the Muggle authorities, it would probably take a year to get Draco one—and that’s with Harry pulling the “I’m Harry Potter, _saviour_ ” card. There is simply no speeding up some forms of bureaucracy (and creating a real person from magic is one that tends to drag).

So, something local. But not too local—they’ve done enough in London for now, and they want to have more options for the future, too.

But while Harry is contemplating, work gets hectic.

Really hectic.

For a while.

And then Harry is left with two weeks until their vacation starts.

And nothing planned.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

He calls Hermione.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Hermione is, as always, the best. The brightest witch of their generation. And he tells her as much.

“What do you need, Harry?” sighed through a mobile is the response he gets when Harry's done peppering his best friend with praise (although all of it is true).

“I am hurt that you would think I'm calling just to ask you for something,” he informs her tartly. He might be making his Malfoy face. “Maybe I just wanted to call and chat with my best friend on this lovely afternoon. Did you consider that?”

“Harry, you only start phone calls with compliments when you need something. So, again, what do you need?” And dammit if she isn’t right. He should really start praising her all the time so that these kinds of things don’t happen—and that’s enough Slytherin for now. Serious business.

“I really need your help!” He’s pleading before he even registers it. It’s practically a conditioned response at this point.

He explains his dilemma, what he wants from the trip, the fact that they can’t leave the UK and that he wants to go full Muggle, when she interrupts.

“You can still go to Ireland,” is said in a tone of someone correcting a basic mistake.

“What? No? How can we? We don’t have passports or even proper government-issued ID. Even if it is just the EU, there’s still crossing back into Britain, with Muggles. We can’t go around _confounding_ border officials. That’s bad form, especially for Draco.”

“It won’t work for other EU countries, but because of how magical Ireland is, there’s documentation I can get you to show at the border so they let you back in. I’ve picked your destination for you; you need to sort out the rest yourself.” And she sounds just like she did back at Hogwarts, when she wouldn’t let him and Ron copy her homework, but would do all their corrections on their drafts.

“Thank you, ‘Mione. I love you!” He hears her laugh before she hangs up.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Harry never really figures out where the idea comes from. Maybe it was stored somewhere deep in his memories of growing up in middle-class, suburban Surrey, with the more-middle-class-than-most Dursleys, but it strikes him suddenly.

A coach tour! He and Draco can take a coach tour to Ireland! Nothing says British Muggle Holiday like a coach trip—even if it also says British Muggle of a _Certain Age_. That’s fine; Draco gets on well with octogenarians, and they always like Harry ‘What a Polite Young Man’ Potter.

So, Harry decides, they will do a coach trip, and it doesn’t even matter where it departs from. As long as they can get two seats and a double bed, they are set, as far as Harry is concerned.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Harry books the last two seats on a coach leaving Cardiff for a week in Killarney.

He is suitably proud of himself.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Draco’s suspicions were aroused when they left for Cardiff after the end of their Friday shifts.

“Our trip leaves from Cardiff on Sunday morning, Draco,” Harry had told him proudly at the start of the week, and Draco had tried not to worry too much that he was only hearing this _days_ before said trip. “We should head to Cardiff after work on Friday, experience some Muggle nightlife, visit Cardiff Castle or something on the Saturday. You know, a nice little mini-vacation before our trip!”

Technically, Draco thought, if it were going to be a Muggle vacation, they shouldn’t be _apparating_ to Wales for a weekend, but he also didn’t want to have to cross the Severn bridge at any hour of the evening. So, he made the hop to one of the approved Cardiff apparition points, waited for Harry to arrive, and they headed to a hotel in the heart of the city.

Really, there wasn’t any particular reason to be suspicious, Draco knew, except _why_ were they taking a trip that departed from Cardiff? Unless they were exploring Northern Wales…

In any case, Draco tried to set aside his worry and enjoy the short stay in Cardiff. There was a lot of nightlife to explore, and many clubs and pubs to pop in and out of for a drink and a dance, neither of which Draco had been able to enjoy in quite some time.

Cardiff Castle was a bit of a disappointment, if Draco were being honest, but most Muggle castles were, after having spent his formative years in both Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts. Even Harry had seemed a bit blasé about the whole thing, although he became animated when they reached the library, for reasons Draco couldn’t quite understand beyond it being the set of some Muggle programme or another.

Rather than attempt to find other attractions in Cardiff, Harry suggested a train trip to Bath (“Muggle trip,” he’d said when Draco had asked why they couldn’t simply apparate; what a prat).

Draco actually found Bath to be enchanting, and not only because he led Harry to the Wizarding baths and marketplace. There was something about being somewhere both historic and intrinsically magical. (Whether the Muggles were right about the healing properties of the baths, any location where humans believed that fiercely in its inherent magic seemed to _sing_ to Draco and his senses. He had never really given it much thought, honestly.)

The last thing they did before taking the train back to Cardiff was to explore the Royal Crescent. While Draco wasn’t overwhelmed by the size or age of the buildings, there was something to be said for the way they sat imposingly on the hill, and the way they formed the crescent they were named for.

Draco actually managed to forget that he had been worried about this trip in the first place.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

That peace didn’t last long.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Harry had them check out before seven in the morning and catch a cab across town the moment they left the hotel.

“We’ll grab pasties for breakfast once we get to the pick-up point,” Harry explained, as the cab sped through central Cardiff. “There’ll probably be a Gregg’s nearby. There’s one around every corner here, from the looks of it.” Harry hesitated. “We need to be at the pick-up point by eight a.m., and I thought we should be early—the company said they wait if they arrive early, but if they don’t have to wait for us, we can be on the road faster, right?”

“That’s surprisingly good sense, Potter,” Draco responded wryly, “but I still think you could have warned me last night that we’d be leaving before even having a coffee.”

Harry just shrugged and grinned, charming and unrepentant. Draco pulled him in for a quick kiss, even if he was still a little cross about the lack of coffee.

There wasn’t a Gregg’s, but there was a Costa, so Draco was able to get his caffeine fix and breakfast. Harry also bought a few odds and ends from the pastry display, claiming that they were “for the road,” even as he promised that there would likely be a stop before they left Wales.

Draco did not find that particularly reassuring. And he was even less certain when the coach bus arrived and Harry led them aboard.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

“Seats 27 and 28,” Harry told the driver as they loaded the luggage under the coach.

“Right, that’s at the very back, gents,” the driver told them. He was maybe ten years their senior and had a slight Welsh accent. “We’ve just got three more pick-up points, then we’ll be heading for the ferry! Head on up to your seats, and don’t forget to buckle up.”

Draco had thought that they were likely to be an earlier pick-up, but if there were only three more stops left, most of the group should be aboard the bus. It hadn’t looked like there was _too_ much luggage in the under-coach storage, so he was feeling pretty optimistic until he followed Harry onto the bus.

“I managed to get us the last two seats available on this trip,” Harry sounded somewhere between excited and wary. Draco couldn’t see his face, so he couldn’t be sure. Not only was Harry in front of him, but Draco was distracted by the number of… _old people_. Like, not to put too fine a point on it, but he and Harry were the youngest there by a solid 40 years, at the least.

They made their way to the back of the coach, muttering ‘pardons’ and ‘excuse me’s’ the whole way, to find that they were sharing the back-bench seating with a pair of lovely-looking older women.

One was dressed in a white linen ensemble, with wide-legged trousers and a long t-shirt in the exact same shade and texture, wearing a brightly-coloured patterned scarf around her neck. The other was in denim capris and a blouse. They both smiled in welcome when Harry and Draco made it to their seats, shuffling their carry-ons around to make room.

“Good morning, young men, how are you today?” the linen one asked as Harry opened an overhead compartment and Draco passed him his bag while trying not to spill his coffee or knock the head of the elderly man n the aisle seat next to where he was standing.

“Wonderful, thank you,” Draco responded on instinct, all manners and politeness, as was proper for a Malfoy. “How are you lovely young ladies today?” He smiled at them as he was finally able to take his seat in the centre of the bench, Harry having shuffled into the window seat.

Both women giggled, but it was the blouse lady, seated at her own window seat, that responded. “We’re both very excited. This is our third trip to Killarney, you know. I think our driver is different this year, though. And they seem to have switched one of our hotel stays—but I just love Ireland, especially this time of year. Have you ever been before?” And, before they could respond, “Oh, goodness me, we forgot to introduce ourselves. I’m Maude, and this is Elin.”

“I’m Harry, and this is Draco. I’ve never been to Ireland before, and I don’t think Draco has, either—” Draco shook his head, “—and this is actually our first ever coach trip. I’m really looking forward to it!” Harry beamed at the women, leaning forward to see past Draco.

“Well, you’ve picked the right trip, boys,” Elin grinned, “Ireland is always beautiful. Although, I’m not sure about your luck being on a full coach for your first go around. Might just put you off, honestly. But there will be lots of free walking time once we get to Erin.” And with another smile, Elin leaned back and began chatting quietly with Maude, leaving Draco and Harry to get settled as the bus trundled forward.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Getting settled, it turned out, was different from getting comfortable.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Draco couldn’t get comfortable.

There were too many people, and he was stuck sitting beside a lovely older lady that he had never met before, his thigh mere inches from her own. He wasn’t really used to being surrounded by this many people, not anymore, and he found it slightly disconcerting.

Draco’s current discomfort was all Potter’s fault. Who, when provided with literal _months_ to plan an anniversary trip, still ends up buying the last two seats on a completely full coach? Draco didn’t even realise it was possible to _sell_ all the seats on a coach trip, or that any company would even try to. Did all of these people _know_ that they were buying seats on a coach that would be sold to capacity?

Potter had, and he'd decided to go through with it. What a weirdo. Draco sighed to himself.

Draco would admit to himself, that he held some small, minuscule, portion of the blame, if only because he was the one who trusted Potter to not be the complete pillock Draco knew him to be. But Draco would never, ever, say anything of the sort out loud.

This was entirely Potter’s fault. Merlin save him from speccy gits. It was lucky Draco loved the git anyway.

Hopefully, Harry was right about there being a stop early on, because Draco was going to need more tea if he was forced to be _polite_ to all these people he didn’t know.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Harry was right about there being a stop before too long.

While Draco went to fetch them both a tea, Harry stopped in at the Tesco Express for sandwiches and crisps. They still had sweet pastries from their Costa breakfast run, but Harry just couldn’t pass up a good crisp combo for lunch. Also, Harry was enjoying the opportunity to stretch his legs.

He could understand what Elin had meant about the full coach being a bit of a determent. So far, the noise level and the crowding hadn’t really bothered him, but he could see it becoming an issue as the afternoon—and the trip—wore on and people started getting louder and chattier.

Harry was not looking forward to Draco getting bitchy with him when he began to feel the claustrophobia of being surrounded by so many people. Harry would offer him the window seat for the next leg of the journey. To save his boyfriend’s sanity, of course, not for any other motives.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Draco actually enjoyed the ferry ride. It was a bit like flying when he was at Hogwarts, skimming over the lake. The breeze and the spray of water around him, the movement of the boat in the ocean reminding him of the buffeting of the wind and the magic of his old Nimbus 2001.

He and Harry were able to explore the ship, the duty-free shop, the café, the cafeteria, and the different decks with external platforms with large viewing windows and comfy chairs. They had more tea, this time with scones and jam and cream, sitting outside and watching the endless blues of the sea and the sky.

Harry looked ridiculous by the time they needed to return to the coach. His already messy hair was ever more hopeless, some parts standing almost straight up from a few hours’ worth of strong, damp winds; cheeks ruddy for the same reason. Draco knew that he’d gone red-cheeked, and that his hair was tangled at the ends, but at least it still hung straight.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Harry sat in the middle again, chatting with Maude and Elin, as they began their journey into Ireland. Even though he had only met them a few hours ago, he was already very comfortable with them—they were both sassy old things, and Elin could out-swear a sailor. Harry, Draco noticed, didn’t retain his ‘these are old people and I should be polite around them’ sensibilities long. They had all but disappeared by the time Maude finished her story about the time she accidentally accompanied her late husband and his mates to a gentleman’s club. Her husband had been mortified, having no idea that his friends were taking him somewhere like that, nor any idea why they hadn’t changed the plan when Maude had decided to join them for the evening. Maude, for her part, had been both embarrassed and aroused.

“It was a bit of an awakening, actually,” she told Harry (and Draco, who was paying rapt attention even as he looked out the window). “I had never seen sexuality and sensuality displayed like that before. I was raised in a time and with a family where you didn’t talk, or even really think, about sex. You had children and they helped on the farm. That was that.

“So to see these women—it was enlightening. Also, it turns out, I was maybe a little gay. Who knew?” And as she laughed, she smiled at Elin, and Harry, and Draco. “So, how’d you realise you prefer dick, so to speak?”

And Harry had _choked_ and Draco knew that these were friends and not ‘old women’ when Harry replied with, “Have you _seen_ the pointy blond beside me? I grew up with him; I didn’t even realise it was strange to think a bloke was pretty until I was fifteen and got a girlfriend for the first time. I just thought _everyone_ thought Draco was beautiful, even if they also wanted to punch him in the nose. ‘No’, my then-girlfriend told me, ‘most people just want to punch him.’ 

“And, a few years later, when I saw him at school again after a long break, I realised that he was funny and I wanted to snog him. When I told my best friend, she told me that she was ‘glad I finally realised I was a huge bisexual disaster and _really, Harry, you should have figured it out when you spent a whole year stalking the poor boy, how dense are you?_ ” Harry made a face.

“Fucking Hermione,” Draco said with Harry, matching his tone. “Too smart for her own good, that one,” Draco continued. “And you couldn’t function half as well without her.”

Harry smiled at Draco while Maude and Elin laughed at them again.

It wasn’t actually that long until they stopped again, but this time it wasn’t for a tea break and a trip to the loo. They had arrived at their hotel for the night.

The check-in procedure wasn’t actually very difficult, and they were spending an evening in a small, historic hotel, so they didn’t have to compete with any other tour groups for service.

Everything was actually going very well, in Harry’s opinion, until they arrived at their room for the night.

Rather than the double or king he’d been expecting, Harry opened the door to a room with two small twin beds, separated by a hardwood nightstand.

Draco took one look around the room and smirked. “Look on the bright side, Potter. You get a bed tonight, rather than a couch or the floor.”

Harry just chuckled, shaking his head. Draco wasn’t even actually pissed off—he must be enjoying the trip so far, despite the hiccups caused by Harry’s last-minute booking.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

They were served a full Irish breakfast in the dining room the next morning. Draco had to pass on the blood sausage, but he helped himself to the porridge with Bailey’s and brown sugar. Harry, of course, ate everything including the blood sausage. Draco refused to kiss him until he brushed his teeth.

After breakfast, they headed off to Killarney, but much like the day before, they stopped before too long. They didn’t pull into a carpark at a café, though, they pulled into a carpark outside a castle.

It was their first excursion of the trip—Blarney Castle.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

“I refuse to wait in line to kiss a semi-magical stone just for a little bit of luck and a very good chance of getting some sort of lip-herpes.”

“Your loss—I’m going to the Stone.”

“We're only here for an hour, and you want to spend the whole time in line behind a gaggle of Muggle tourists.” Draco sighed, exasperated. “Whatever, it’s your trip, too. I will explore the gardens and the rest of the castle while you have your fun tonguing a rock.”

“Don’t worry, Draco! No rock will ever be able to kiss as well as you—or ever bring me as much luck.”

Draco rolled his eyes, harrumphing. “Sap,” he sneered.

Harry laughed and pressed a quick peck to his cheek. “You love me for it,” Harry grinned.

“Bigger the fool me. I’m going to explore the grounds—if you aren’t at the bus in time for departure, I’m having the driver leave you behind. I could use the extra space; there are some lovely little shops here and I’m sure Mother and Aunt Andromeda would both appreciate a small token.”

“Don’t forget that we’ve got a day in Waterford on our way back.”

“Yes, yes,” Draco shooed him away. “If you don’t hurry up you won’t reach your kissing stone before we have to go.”

Harry laughed and darted off to the long queue winding its way down a path marked ‘This Way to the Blarney Stone.’

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Draco enjoyed exploring the castle grounds, the ancient parts of the castle he could enter, and the small walk of tourist shops full of Royal Dalton and Irish knits. He ended up buying a quaint chintz tea set for his mother, and a set of tea mugs in a similar pattern for his aunt.

What surprised him the most was that Harry rejoined him almost ten minutes before they were due to return to the coach. He was flushed from having run back to where the coach was parked, but he seemed pleased to have arrived before time. Draco gave him a kiss on his temple while Harry beamed at him—and quickly dodged as Harry tried to kiss his face.

“You are not coming anywhere near me with those lips of yours until I know they’ve been cleaned and well sanitized,” Draco informed him.

“You’ll let me snog you immediately after I’ve had my tongue up your arse, but one little peck on a public stone and now I need to be decontaminated like I’m hazardous. You really are a ponce, you know?”

Draco just shrugged and began boarding the coach. “I contain multitudes. It’s part of why you love me.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

They arrived in Killarney by mid-afternoon and checked into their hotel. This hotel, unlike the historic one in Waterford, was bustling with people and they easily spotted three other coaches in the lot.

After dropping off their bags in their room (with a single king bed), Harry and Draco headed back down to the lobby to meet with the rest of their group—the driver was to give them an update on their itinerary for the rest of the week as well as when they needed to be at dinner. Draco grumbled at the early departure time for the next morning, even if it was for a boat ride to the ruins of another ancient castle, but he perked up upon being reminded that the hotel bar has a 2-for-1 drinks special for most of the week. Harry grinned, pleased that Draco seemed to be enjoying himself.

They sat at a table for four with two other members of their tour—an elderly couple by the names of John and Deirdre. John was a retired physician who started his training as a boy during the Second World War, while Deirdre taught primary until she'd retired ten years ago; but it was her first year without being on a list of possible substitutes in her county and they were taking this particular trip to inaugurate a new tradition.

Draco asked John as many questions as was polite, while Harry chatted with Deirdre about Teddy and her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

“John and I weren’t really that young when we had Philip, you know. But he was certainly young when sweet Sara next door got pregnant. He never said he did it, of course, and I’m certain he didn’t—he’s always been gayer than a mayflower, you know, a mother can _tell_ —but he wanted to help Sara, and she really was a beautiful young thing. So, they were married right out of secondary school, and moved into Sara’s grandmother’s cottage, and raised a beautiful daughter, our Lorraine.

“Lorraine is our eldest granddaughter and is actually a mother of two already. She’s why we moved to Wales, you know. She wanted to get away from Yorkshire after her divorce but didn’t want to separate the boys from all the rest of their family—she really is a wonderful girl, and such a caring mother, I don’t know what that fool of a husband was thinking, messing about on her—and she asked us if we wanted to join her. She had found a company that had a lot of locations in West Glamorgan, and a lovely cottage in Mumbles, with a neighbouring house also for sale, and we agreed to cross the Severn with her.

“West Glamorgan really does have some beautiful scenery, even in Swansea. Have you ever been, dear?”

“No ma’am, I haven’t had the pleasure yet. We went straight to Cardiff from London and didn’t stop in anywhere on the way.”

“Oh dear, that’s quite the journey. By rail, I expect? You wouldn’t have wanted to take _another_ bus right before a coach tour, I’m sure.”

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Draco was practically dragged to the bar after they finished eating. While he had been planning on heading there anyway, he thought that Harry was being quite rude by dragging there with such haste.

“Unhand me, Potter, you oaf. People will think you’re a drunk with the way you’re rushing to the bar like that.”

“Draco,” Harry moaned, joining the queue at the bar. “I like talking to people, I like learning about them, but I didn’t need to learn everything there is to know about Deirdre, John, their possibly gay son, their maybe-not-related-to-them granddaughter, and, horrifically, their _sex life_. I… I… I need a drink, babe. I cannot function right now without one.”

Draco patted Harry’s shoulder consolingly, trying not to laugh at his boyfriend.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

They discovered that their hotel hosted different performances in their auditorium every evening.

Harry begged Draco to deign to attend the evening’s performance, some sort of Spanish guitar _thing_ , but Harry needed the distraction and the proximity to the bar. And really, Draco was only being stubborn for the hell of it.

The show was good, but Harry was stifling yawns by nine and he could tell that Draco was no better. They finished their drinks and headed back to their room. They did little more than kiss for a bit before passing out, alarm set for 6:15 the next morning.

When they joined Maude and Elin at their table for breakfast, both women greeted them with cheerful grins and playful ribbing.

“We saw you two sneak out of the show early last night… Did you have better plans?” Elin leered as Maude laughed.

“As if,” Draco snorted and Harry made an indignant noise. “Potter here fell asleep before we could do much more than undress.”

Harry rolled his eyes even as he rebuked, “Like you were in any better shape, git. You were snoring before your head even hit the pillow.”

“That is absurd and blatantly untrue,” Draco cried, “as I have told you thousands of times before, Malfoys don’t snore. The inbreeding ensured that.” Somehow Draco kept a straight face as he stated that fact as though it was something high class and to be admired. Harry really loved the dork.

“Yeah, alright, you posh wanker, you don’t snore. But what about the gills?” And Harry, unlike Draco, can’t get the words out without bursting into raucous laughter, joined by the women at the table with them.

“Known each other long, then, have you?” Maude asked, eyes glinting. She knew the answer, Harry had already told her they grew up together. Harry thought she was probably just a mischievous fossil, and he respected that.

“Oh, fuck, coming up to twenty years soon, isnnit?” Harry checked.

“Something like that,” Draco hummed. “We went to the same secondary school, then roomed together in Uni, too.” And Harry was so proud of Draco for sounding so Muggle, that he would be sure to let him know that tonight.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

The coach trip was relatively short this time as well. They were taken to Ross Castle, in the Killarney National Park.

Ross Castle, much like Blarney Castle the day before, was more ruined fort than the magnificent luxury of Cardiff Castle—but it was easier for Draco to enjoy them that way, Harry knew. And Harry could admit to feeling similarly.

The information on the reconstruction was informative, though Harry spent more time admiring the views of the lake around them, the islands in the near-distance. Unlike Blarney, there was no gift shop or row of boutiques—just an old stone fort surrounded by water.

Once their group had looked its fill, and the time they’d been given was up, their driver led them to a hired boat for the main excursion of the morning—a tour of the lake by boat, passing by Innisfallen Island and its ruined abbey, as well as the other islands.

Not everyone joined the cruise, of course, but Draco practically dragged Harry onboard, claiming spots on the bench at the stern of the boat. Harry smiled as Draco giddily pointed out interesting sights on the islands they passed, including the ruins and herds of “deer? Elk? Potter, help me out, you should know this.”

The cruise lasted a good few hours as they circled most of the lake, and the islands dotted throughout, almost in their entirety.

It was, all in all, a very leisurely morning.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Draco was excited to explore Killarney for the afternoon, as the castle and boat ride were the only excursions for the day.

The coach deposited them at the hotel with a reminder about both supper time and the departure scheduled for the next day, then they were free.

Draco led the way in the direction he suspected Killarney was, following the path of hotels, signage, and the church spires in the distance. They passed a local brewery on the way into the town and agreed to stop in on their way back to the hotel for dinner.

After a quick pop into a shop for some lunch—sausage rolls and coffee—Draco began hunting for their next adventure. There was a big church in the distance, but—

“Where is the stone circle located?” Draco asked at the tourist information centre. Harry gaped at Draco, which was somewhat uncouth, but also, somehow, endearing. Draco ignored him, to the best of his abilities, while he listened to the Muggle giving him walking directions. There was a path, and they could get cycles to get there faster if they wanted, but it wasn’t an outrageous journey to make on foot.

With information in hand, and purpose in his stride, Draco led the way.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

“It really is spectacular, isn’t it, Harry?” Draco’s voice was awed.

“It is,” Harry agreed.

For Muggles, it probably wasn’t much—a feat of engineering, another thing to discuss in a history class or as proof of alien or divine intervention. But for Harry and Draco, for those who used magic or felt magic or _were_ magic, the circle was alive. The air vibrated with wild magic, the earth lusher, the sky clearer, the stones stronger. It wasn’t a ley line, and it wasn’t Stonehenge, but it was, in many ways, better. Practically untouched when compared to more famous stone circles, the wild magic was peaceful and stable (as much as wild magic could be), likely protecting much of the area in undefinable ways.

“No faeries, thank Merlin,” Draco muttered to himself. “Those little fuckers are after my hair, I swear, Potter. Never ask me to attend a midsummer’s event near a faerie circle.”

Harry chuckled, nodding to Draco seriously despite his amusement. “Should we do anything while we’re here?” It was Harry’s first time being this close to a stone circle, or at least one like this. Their whole Muggle Studies class in Eighth Year had been asked to meet at Stonehenge for the Summer Solstice, to watch the spectacle, even though they would have already completed the term. Almost all of them had been there.

“There’s no need, and there isn’t really much that can be done, anyway. With a circle as stable as this one, attempting anything may actually cause harm—wizards are only meant to harness the wild magic of a stone circle when in dire need or when the magic needs to be released and rebalanced. That’s why there are so many in Ireland, you know. It isn’t simply because there's more magic on the island; it's because there have been many times of great need.”

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

A brewery tour and tasting before dinner might not have been the responsible choice, but Harry stood by their decision. Besides, they ate enough at dinner, joining another pair from their group, Joyce and Dhillon, to make up for any real drunkenness.

“You boys seemed to enjoy the cruise this morning,” Joyce smiled at them, accent a stronger Welsh than any Harry had heard so far.

“Yeah,” Draco nodded, overly enthusiastic in his tipsiness. “I just love it here,” he gushed, “it’s so beautiful, and the weather is blessedly cool without being cold, and nature is everywhere even when it isn’t, you know?”

Harry noded along, understanding completely, even as Dhillon and Joyce give them the sort of indulgent looks grandparents seem to be good at. At least, Harry assumes it’s a grandparent thing; Deirdre had worn a similar look when talking about her family.

“Exactly, babe,” Harry patted Draco’s arm. “There’s something in the air—”

“—magic, Harry, you fuckwit, it’s magic in the air, we talked about it earlier at the circle.”

“Right! It’s so fucking magical here.” Harry did not understand why they were both so drunk. They clearly were, however, so maybe it didn't matter how it happened. He just didn't normally swear in front of older people. He wasn't _Draco_ , after all. “I’m not Draco,” he muttered to himself, “so I shouldn’t be fucking swearing in front of adults who are older than me.” Joyce and Dhillon burst out laughing.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

It is another night on their anniversary trip where they fall asleep before ten and without getting further along than a lazy snog in bed.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Wednesday morning is their own—the excursion to the Ring of Kerry not scheduled until noon.

They don’t laze in bed all morning like they might like to; they need to get up for breakfast and figure out what to do for lunch. Luckily, the hotel offered packed lunches, so they picked out their sandwiches and crisps, paid for them in advance and left their names for pickup before going to breakfast.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

It isn’t until they are on the coach for the Ring of Kerry excursion that they realise it.

Maude and Elin raved about the previous evening’s show, while Pete, the man in the seat in front of them (who Draco almost beaned on the first morning), talked about how he and his wife, Gwyn, didn’t get back to their room until nearly two that morning, having spent their time after dinner wandering the town before doing some sort of pub crawl that ended at the hotel just minutes before the doors were locked for the evening.

Harry looked at Draco, who met his eyes with a mirror of the same horror.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, the two youngest passengers on this bus, the couple celebrating their anniversary, were going to bed before midnight and had not had sex once since their vacation began.

They were the most pathetic people ever.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

The beauty of the Ring of Kerry allowed them both to forget about their feelings of inferiority (who would have known that octogenarians were so rowdy??). The trees surrounding the narrow road were vibrant, and the mountains around them were damp with precipitation from the constant fog.

They found that the back bench was not a bad spot to be during a scenic tour of mountains and foliage and fog, as they were able to open the curtains of the rear window and look up and behind them whenever they wanted.

Eventually the coach pulled into a small park with an overlook. There was another coach parked nearby, and a bus-load of tourists were already spread about the area, taking photos and pointing out different views. Draco immediately pulled Harry away from the rest of their group, heading to explore as much as possible during their twenty-minute stop.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

After returning to the hotel, Harry led Draco back to their room.

“How do you feel about a shag before dinner?” Harry asked, closing the door behind himself.

Draco considered the proposition—he wasn’t tired, he was a bit pent up, and as nice as a snog before bed was, he wanted the connection and intimacy of having Harry buried inside him. And they had time to kill before dinner, anyway.

“Yeah, okay, that sounds good.” Draco pulled down the hotel duvet before stripping and laying down on his back. “Did you bring any condoms?”

Harry froze while taking off his shirt. “Fuck, I hope so…” He rushed to the bags and rummaged around. “Dammit, fuck, and shit, it doesn’t look like we brought any.” Harry paused to consider. “I could walk to the chemist’s in town—we passed one while exploring the other day.”

“Call the front desk and see if they sell any. They sell toothbrushes, they should sell condoms. We can even have them charged to the room and settle it tomorrow.”

“I’m not getting condoms from a hotel front desk! And I don’t want to be seen by any of the old ladies when I pick them up there or settle the tab tomorrow.”

“Why the ever-loving fuck not? Those raunchy old bags wouldn’t care.”

“No, but they’d definitely make fun of us for the rest of the trip for it. Let’s just spell some lube and I’ll buy you a gelato after we eat.”

Draco huffed. “I’m not using _magicked lube_ , Potter. You know it’s too sticky to be practical. Let’s just fool around in the shower—but I’m holding you to the gelato.” Draco pulled himself off the bed and headed, naked, to the bathroom. “I can’t believe we forgot to fucking pack condoms… it’s a fucking anniversary holiday and we didn’t pack anything for sex…” Draco muttered the entire way to the shower.

Harry finished undressing and followed him.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

They each had a scoop of Irish Cream gelato after dinner and picked up some supplies from the chemist.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

The next morning, Draco was a little worse for wear, especially considering that they had another hours-long coach journey to make, but Harry knew they were both satisfied. They hadn’t been able to spend an entire night having sex in months, if not years. They both have hectic jobs that require their attention, and they care too much about their abilities to go in on low sleep over something preventable. But today they have a morning travelling through the Irish countryside; they can doze if they need to.

The women seated next to them on the coach almost certainly noticed the difficulty Draco had sitting, but they did nothing but wink and giggle. Draco responded with a smug smirk while Harry tried not to blush. This was worse than being teased about concierge condoms.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Draco jolted when they arrived in Waterford—he had spent the entire morning dozing and had fallen asleep just after they started through Tipperary. Harry nudged him as he shifted to allow Elin and Maude into the aisle.

“We’re here, love,” Harry murmured, as though Draco couldn’t see everyone getting off the coach and collecting their luggage from the driver. What a dope. Draco loved him.

“M’kay,” Draco mumbled drowsily as he lurched into the aisle and toward the front of the coach. “Potter,” he began, as his lower back twinged with every step forward. “Next time I tell you to ‘fuck me until I can’t stand it anymore,’ please remember that I still need to be able to move again the next day. This has been hell, and I don’t know how I’ll feel tomorrow when the muscle pain really kicks in. I need to start exercising again—I used to be able to do squats for hours without feeling anything; now I can’t even ride your cock for twenty minutes without feeling the thigh burn for days. Is this what getting old is like?”

The few members of their tour that were still gathering their bags snickered at Draco, and Harry flushed crimson when he realised how many people had heard at least part of Draco's rant.

“Don’t worry, dear. You don’t need to be spry for everything,” one old lady, whose name Draco didn’t know, leered with a wink.

Draco laughed and winked back as Harry strode through the entrance with their bags.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

The afternoon in Waterford began at Waterford Crystal. The store was filled with crystal baubles, figurines, and glassware. Draco picked up a candle holder for Hermione, that he and Harry could give her for Christmas, and matching vases for his aunt and mother. He also bought a lovely crystal owlet for Harry, as a surprise for his birthday.

They opted not to tour the factory, choosing instead to explore the beautiful town. It was right on a river, and the views were absolutely scenic. There was a museum not far from the crystal shop that they walked through, and they explored some interesting heritage sights nearby.

They also bought some more gelato, even though dinner was only a short time away.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Their room once again had twin beds.

Draco was grateful. His ass needed the rest.

He did miss the snogging before bed, though.

DMHPDMHPDMHPDMHP

Even knowing how bad it sounded, Harry was glad the trip was basically over. He couldn’t wait to be back home with Draco, away from all the people. No matter how lovely they were, they were still right there, all the time, and Harry was looking forward to locking the world out from tonight until he had to leave for work on Monday. Just him and Draco, at home together. They could visit with their friends and family throughout the week and over next weekend.

Harry had been thinking about asking if Draco wanted to extend their holiday until Sunday, maybe head to Swansea or Mumbles, stop in at Worm’s Head. But now, he just wants to get home. And he can tell Draco feels the same.

And, as long as everything goes well crossing back into England, they'll be home before tea.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Everything goes well at the border.

Especially when Harry proposes.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Look forward to the bonus chapter :))))


	2. BONUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

“How long have you two been married?” asks one of the older gentleman that Harry doesn’t know very well. His name might be Brian?

“Oh, we aren’t married,” Draco responds, but he gives the man a pleasant smile. “We've been dating for six years, though. Although,” and here Draco laughs and Harry knows what’s coming. “Harry here, being the dolt he is, didn’t know we were dating for the first year, even after we moved in together. So I keep changing the anniversary date, because there isn’t really an official one.”

Everyone around them laughs, some commenting on the fact that they're a sweet couple or that Draco is well within his rights to move the anniversary (mostly wives) or that being able to change the date must spice things up in the bedroom (Maude, the vixen).

“That’s not true,” Harry interjects. “You don’t get to change the date whenever you want. We have an official anniversary date.”

“No we don’t—” Draco turns to Harry in time to see Harry get down on one knee.

“We do because if you want, it can be today." Harry holds out a ring box. "Draco, will you marry me?” 

“Dammit, Potter, were you waiting for me to tell the story to propose? You complete sap,” Draco is choking up a little, “of course I’ll marry you. Ugh, I can’t believe you waited until I told that stupid story to propose. I’m telling everyone we know how gross and mushy you are.” Even as he complains, Draco is smiling sweetly at Harry, giving him his hand for the ring.

The people around them cheer—then begin hooting and hollering when Draco yanks Harry up into a quick, but passionate, snog.

“At least I didn’t propose during sex,” Harry whispers to Draco between kisses.

“Thank Merlin you didn’t,” Draco agrees. “Imagine having to tell my mother that story to her face.” Draco laughs at Harry’s sudden flush. “I love you, you sappy git.”

“And I love you too, you posh wanker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) 
> 
> This is officially my longest fic to date :D

**Author's Note:**

> ☀️ This fic is part of the GWB summer Vibes gift exchange. If you'd like to spread the love, [ consider reblogging this tumblr post!](https://triggerlil.tumblr.com/post/626297590190833664)


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